Got A Cold?
by in.the.palm.of.your.hand
Summary: Hermione is worried about Harry, because he hasn't showed up all day. She finds him in the common room.


**Got A Cold?**

**by Tamar-Shakira**

"Ron? Ron?"

"What?"

"Where's Harry?"

"I don't know, I left him in bed this morning and that's the last time I saw him. How many times do I have to repeat that?"

"Sorry, it's just… never mind."

The History of Magic lesson is almost over. It's the first time in my life that I have not been able to pay attention during class. Not only during this one, but also during – what was it? – Potions, DADA and Transfiguration. And why? Harry isn't there. He hasn't shown up all day and I am worried sick. Maybe he didn't feel like going to school… no, that is something Ron would do, not Harry. Deciding that I'm going to check the common room, I put my books in my bag and say goodbye to Ron. On a quick pace I start my so-called journey to the common room. Painting – painting – stairs – hall – library doors – panting – toilet – painting – stairs – corridor – infirmary – stairs – painting Fat Lady – hall – stair… Wait a second. I take a couple of steps back and eye the painting. The woman on the sheet looks at me in a amused way, which makes me scowl at her.

"What?" she asks, clearly undignified.

"_Yellow Jelly Beans_," I say, ignoring her completely. And I already take a few steps forward, as she turns on her hinge.

"The youth these days," she mutters.

In the dimly lit common room, I find Harry on a comfy chair. Staring lifelessly into the fire. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his arms are draped around them, one hand contains a tissue. His head snaps up, as I let my bag fall to the floor. But when he sees who it is, he turns his head towards the fire again.

"Hey Harry."

"Hey." It's sounds bad, it really does. I think I've never heard his voice being so nasal before.

"I missed you today," I say, seating myself on the couch next to his chair.

"Huh. So your capability of noticing things is still working properly." His sarcasm makes me laugh.

"Yep, as good as ever." Turning his head to face mine, he chuckles softly. His eyes look black and hollow in the little light, which erupts from the fire. It makes him look tired and sad.

"How've you been doing today," I ask quietly.

His voice is raw and edgy as he forms an answer. "Well, my throat really hurts and I'm cold and hot at the same time and – well, my day has been horrible."

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Why didn't you go to Madam Pomfrey?" I ask, not believing that he didn't think of this earlier. He grins sheepishly.

"I guess I forgot. You know Hermione? I can't believe that you always think of everything. Is there anything you don't forget? I mean, you're always there to save my freaking ass and still you want to be my friend. Even if I cause you so much trouble." My expression softens as soon the words leave his mouth, but he's not finished. "I really appreciate that. You're always listening. Like now, I'm rambling about how much I like you and you listen. That's a gift, Hermione. And you never lie to me, not even if it's for my own good. I can trust you. And that's just –"

"Harry," I say, not wanting to believe what I'm hearing.

"No, I'm not finished yet." He has this look of determination on his face and I know it's better not to disturb him. "You always say that you're not pretty and that other people say nasty things about you, but that's not true. You are – and I'm not lying – the most amazing, most generous and prettiest witch of our age. Your hair is truly beautiful and your eyes… really –" Suddenly a look of realization is shown on his face. And he blushes. "Did I say all of that out loud?"

I nod slowly. "You like me?" I really can't believe it. Harry likes me. Harry – my best friend – likes me. Harry – the boy I've had a crush on for years – likes me.

"I said that?" And there's my nod again. "Oh, well, I- I guess…" His face glows with embarrassment, as a grin slowly curls my lips. After a couple of seconds I'm grinning broadly. "Uh… Hermione? Look, I didn't me-"

Shaking my head, I quickly cross the distance between our faces – and believe me, it's a at least a meter – and give him a kiss square on his mouth.

It was meant as a short kiss, but Harry quickly responds by placing his hands on my waist and pulling me in his lap. He kisses me again, but this time longer and slower, like he is putting much effort and care in it. And it's amazing. It's heaven. But the fleeting feeling is soon gone, when we part. It's amazing to see him like this, his eyes shining (What is it? Happiness? Bewilderment? Love?) and his lips slightly parted.

I grin. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too." He smiles. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time, I guess I didn't have the guts."

"Wow, we should report this to Rita Skeeter. The-Boy-Who-Lived lost his guts." I want to say more, but I find that I can't. I get a nasty feeling in my lungs and throat and breathing only makes it worse. A very familiar feeling that is. Waving my hand in front of my nose, I sneeze loudly. Harry erupts in laughter and pulls my chin up, so that his eyes meet mine.

"Got a cold?"

Chuckling, I stand up from his lap, grab his hand and start walking to the entrance. "Off to Madam Pomfrey."

**- THE END -**

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